


There's No Going Back

by Val_Creative



Category: Bad Blood - Taylor Swift (Music Video)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Sexual Content, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The underground arena always smells wet, sour, even when cleared out. Associations that all the girls come to understand eventually during their training: sweat patches and dried, heavy bloodstains. </p><p>Catastrophe remembers the first day, watching Slay-Z get her back teeth loosened during a match, spitting two into the crowd hollering for more. She flinched then. Flinching lands you in a world of <i>trouble</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Going Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreshBrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/gifts).



> Around 3am, I stumbled on [this comment](http://inthewildwood.livejournal.com/40383.html?thread=144319#t144319) for a femslash ficathon. My brain never registered the thought of using Bad Blood characters, and I was immediately hooked. Taylor Swift [posted this yesterday](https://twitter.com/taylorswift13/status/626473577781399553) and it inspired me more. I hope OP gets a kick out of the fic and you guys too!

*

The underground arena always smells wet, sour, even when cleared out. Associations that all the girls come to understand eventually during their training: sweat patches and dried, heavy bloodstains.

Catastrophe remembers the first day, watching Slay-Z get her back teeth loosened, spitting two into the crowd hollering for more.

She flinched then. Flinching lands you in a world of _trouble_.

Frostbyte didn't even look the slightest bit revolted, as tiny red splatters flecked her own ivory fur-coat. Then again, Frostbyte didn't show a lot of emotion to begin with—it was part of her _early training_ , rumors indicated. And, according to Lucky Fiori. He loved gossip just as much as smoking his lungs out.

She tried monotonously reassuring Cat that not everyone got injured or “royally fucked up” when competing against Knockout.

Knockout doesn't look like one of those fiercer girls, not like Dilemma who could punch her bare fingers through _steel_ without breaking any bone. She is definitely one of those _dark horses_.

*

There's a ridiculous amount of rules to the spy academy, but only _two_ in the arena.

1) Talk shit, get hit.

2) Show grit, get _clit_.

Hooking up on the adrenaline rush isn't a big deal. It's _off_ the high where things get complicated.

Shaking out her damp hair, Catastrophe rubs at her bruising jaw, open-mouthed.

" _Damn_ ," she mutters, cursing loud enough for it to echo. Her body jerks to the right and leans backwards on the ropes. "Tell me how you really feel."

"Oh fuck off, I went easy on you," the other woman says, bouncing on her heels. The hint of grin on her chapped lips is both gorgeous and cocky. "They don't call me Knockout because I get my ass handed to me."

"I thought they did 'cause you're hot."

Knockout closes the distance _fast_ , breathing right into her airspace. Their noses brushing. Her hands grasping to the ropes on either side of Cat. "They say if the glove fits," Knockout murmurs, eyeing her mouth.

"You know," Catastrophe says, almost laughing, "most people around here are about as straight as a river."

"More exciting that way."

She takes the initiative, pressing her top lip to Knockout's bottom, sliding it dry and feeling their skin stick. Matches are brutal and unforgiving, but kissing Knockout is never like that. She's heat and _softness_. She's low, breathy noises passing between them, and scab-knuckled hands tangling in Cat's ruby-red dyed hair.

Catastrophe licks along Knockout's mouth, over her teeth, and whispers, "We're gonna take out Arsyn."

It's met with growing disbelief and silence, and then a harsh, purposeful tug on her scalp before she's let go.

Knockout's features are tightening up, sneering.

"You're outta your shit…" she says, backing up. "All of you."

"I just wanted you to know, alright? Headmistress was going to assign us whether or not we wanted it!" Catastrophe throws up her bandage-taped hands, exasperated. " _Karlie_..."

The gym bag on the floor hoists over Knockout's shoulder. "Better hope you survive her android elite, _Tay_ ," she snaps, and it fucking stings how much venom courses through her tone.

_I'm gonna._

Catastrophe pushes her hands over her trembling eyelids, over her red-flushed cheeks and bruised jaw.

_I'm gonna come back to you._

*


End file.
